Bah Humbug: A Very Grimm Christmas
by OveractiveImagination39
Summary: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez hated Christmas and planned to drink himself beyond reason until the holiday passed. Yet some uninvited guests have different plans. Can his hardened heart be made to see the error of his ways before it is too late to save his miserable soul? The Dickens classic "A Christmas Carol", with a Bleach twist.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:**

Since the completion of my last story I was feeling rather uninspired. For weeks I drifted in and out of ideas, yet none sparked my interest. Then this one came to me in the shower and within thirty-six hours it was done

I have always loved the Dickens classic "A Christmas Carol", and the idea of Grimmjow as Scrooge was too irresistible to pass up. So I present my take on the story from a Bleach perspective. A crossover fic I guess you could say!

I have started a tumblr blog for this story and you can find the link on my profile. I plan to give sneak peaks at future chapters, and have commissioned the talented artist **Sideburn004** to make sketches of the various characters, so please check it out.

One last note, I also had the joy of sharing this with my husband and daughter and was able to watch their expressions as they read through the chapters. It was so fulfilling to see their reactions, and I wish I could see your reaction as the reader as well. Alas all I have is your response in the form of a review. So please let me know what you thought, and what parts touched you as you read.

* * *

_A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens _

_Bleach and its characters are the creation of Tite Kubo_

** Beta**: _lilarin _

**Cover Art**_ by Sideburn004_

* * *

**Chapter One:**

"You fear the world too much," she answered gently. "All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off, one by one, until the master passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?" ― Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

He lay awake in bed staring up at the lights from the city as they danced across his ceiling. The alarm had yet to go off and he debated simply giving up on the sleep that refused to come, and getting out of bed and hitting the gym early. Glancing at the clock he noticed that it was four-thirty; still a half an hour until he normally got up and ready for the day. Even on this morning, when most of the world spent the last few moments searching for the perfect gifts for their loved ones, now frantic as the minutes ticked quickly by them, he would not veer from his usual routine.

He hated Christmas. Always had, and nothing was going to change that. It was a noisy useless holiday only good for the profits it now brought him. Yet for the gains he would make financially this December 25th, there were always a million other causes demanding he give that hard-earned money away.

Fuck charity, he thought as he exhaled loudly into the silent room. He worked his ass off to get the things he desired in life, and he sure as hell was not going to give it away to appease some misplaced notion that good deeds would somehow save his cursed soul. He knew what waited for him on the other side, and he had decided long ago that he would get the most from this life before he faced the consequences for his actions in the next.

He had known what it was like to be hungry. He remembered the burn in his gut that came with wanting something so badly that it ate a person alive, but he had done something about that, and he vowed he would never go back to that life again. What he owned was his, and he refused to part with any of it.

Cursing loudly he sat up in bed and threw back the silk sheets. Swinging his feet over the side of his bed he leaned over and reset the alarm for tomorrow. It was useless to lie here any longer. He still had a full schedule ahead of him today, might as well get started early.

* * *

"Good morning Mr. Jaegerjaquez," his secretary looked up from her computer screen.

"Miss Ise," he nodded as he continued walking to his office.

She followed suit and stood patiently in front of his desk while he got comfortable. As soon as he was situated she began to rattle off his itinerary for the day. He listened patiently. He had hired Nanao Ise when he had started his business five years earlier. She was efficient, ruthlessly so, and she ran his office with precision that would rival the best of military operations. Most importantly she could take his shit and never batted an eyelash.

Pausing for a moment she took a breath and handed him an envelope. "Your brother has invited you to Christmas dinner with his fiancee and her family."

He took the invitation and opened it, barely even glancing at the information written inside.

"Fiancee," he muttered as he placed the card into the shredder beside his desk. "The stupid kid is barely twenty years old and yet he ties himself to some girl he has been dating since his first year of college. Most likely she will end up pregnant and all that money I invested in his education will have been for naught when he drops out to support her."

"Toshiro has always seemed a practical boy," she stated but became silent when he shot her a glare that told her he did not want her opinion. Straightening the notes in her hand she continued, "Should I let him in when he arrives…?"

"I told him not to come."

"You tell him that every year, but that does not seem to deter him in the least. She looked to the shredder, "Maybe if you would attend one of these dinners with him, he would stop pestering you to come."

"I have better things to do with my time than sit around and sing Christmas carols and pretend to enjoy his fiancee's annoying family," he grabbed the notes she held out to him.

"Understood," she nodded. Before she turned to leave she said low, "I received a call this morning from an Orihime Inoue." He froze and looked up from his messages, "She said she was an acquaintance of yours from high school."

"I know who she is," his voice was gruff, but his heart was racing at a furious pace in his chest. Why would Orihime call? It had been almost sixteen years since they had graduated. Fourteen years that he had left her behind him to make his way in the world. "What did she want?"

"She asked to speak with you," Nanao said evenly. "She sounded very upset and practically begged me to fit her into your schedule."

"And you told her I was busy," he replied as he continued to go through his messages, trying in vain to ignore the pressure in his chest that refused to dissipate.

"She wouldn't take no for an answer," Nanao met his eyes as he looked up. "I can have security escort her from the building if she attempts to see you."

He laid the notes on his desk and lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He did not need this. Not now. Not when he finally had his shit together. Still the idea of seeing her again stirred something in his heart. A twisted feeling of pleasure mixed with pain. It would be a mistake, a huge mistake. Still he was curious.

"If she comes in let me know," he said softly. "I'll decide if I can fit her in."

"Yes sir," Nanao replied and left the office, closing the double doors quietly behind her.

He sat back and exhaled deeply. He was reminded again why he hated Christmas. People always had a way of coming out of the woodwork at the holidays. Yet he never gave them a reason to believe he would ever contribute to their cause or grace them with his presence at one of their functions. He valued his time and money too much to share it with anybody else.

Not family. Not Friends. And least of all not ex-girlfriends who believed they could save his soul if he let them in.

* * *

"Miss Inoue is here, Mr. Jaegerjaquez," Nanao's cool voice came on the line. "Should I tell her to leave?"

He cursed under his breath. "No, send her in. Better to see what she wants."

A moment later the doors to his office opened and Nanao led his visitor inside. He stood and stared at her. Orihime Inoue, the only woman he had been foolish enough to ever consider loving. Time had not changed her much. Oh, her body had grown even more curvaceous if that was possible, and her hair was still the most brilliant shade of auburn, and her lips screamed for him to devour them if he would let himself fall under her spell. Yet he was not that boy anymore, and he was able to place his head before his heart much more effectively than when he was in high school.

"Grimmjow," her voice was tiny and unsure. He noticed her hands clenched tightly onto her handbag. "It's good to see you again."

She smiled, but he could see the anxiety in her gaze. Motioning for her to sit at one of the chairs in front of his desk he said to Nanao, "Would you bring something for Miss Inoue to drink?" He looked to Orihime, "Water or something a little stronger?"

"Oh, I don't need anything," she sat down and clutched her bag so tightly her knuckles were white.

He nodded and dismissed his secretary. Sitting back down he said coolly, "I was surprised to hear that you wanted to see me. Usually people don't come to visit unless they want something," he noticed her grow pale. So that was it. She wanted money, or something else from him. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk he continued, "I see this is not a personal call for old time's sake."

She stiffened at the cold tone of his voice. Fidgeting with the strap of her bag she said nervously, "I wish it was, Grimmjow. I hate to even meet you under such conditions, but I am in dire straights and needed help quick…and well…you came to mind…because you played pro ball…and you know what it's like to come from the projects…"

He hated that she was rambling. Even more he hated that she was bringing up his past. A past he had worked very hard to distance himself from.

"The point Orihime," he cut her off. "What is it you want from me?"

She took a deep breath to calm herself and then rushed forward again, "I work at _Towards Tomorrow_, it's a recreational program aimed at keeping kids off the streets with after-school activities like sports, culinary training, and art classes…"

"Orihime," he interrupted again, "I do not donate to such causes. You're wasting both our time…"

"Please," her eyes met his with renewed determination, "I know your feelings on helping the less fortunate," he bristled at her chastising tone, "But this is different. You see, each year we have a gift exchange for the younger children in the community. People donate toys and clothes and other things, and we distribute them at a big party on Christmas Day. Only this year…well yesterday someone broke into our storage unit and stole everything…the presents…the trimmings…all of it…"

"And you wish me to donate money?"

"Actually money would be nice, but time is running out. I was hoping instead that you could donate actual items. Since you own one of the largest sporting goods franchises in the country, I thought you would have things on hand, you know like footballs and basketballs, maybe some bikes…"

"And you expect me to just give these things away because you did not protect your donations as well as you should have?"

She sat tall, her eyes now blazed with indignation.

He though was not done, "I have employees Orihime. They work hard for their paychecks, and I work hard to see that this company stays on top so that they continue to have paychecks. Times are tight right now, and I cannot afford to give away inventory to every bleeding heart that walks through my door."

She shook her head sadly, "You honestly feel that way?"

"Fucking straight," he replied angrily. "I worked hard to get where I am, and I am not about to piss away everything I have strived for just so some do-gooders can feel satisfied at the holidays." She gasped. "I will not break policy for anyone. Not family, nor friends, and least of all," he leaned forward further, "Old lovers who haven't seen the need to contact me until they are desperate for help."

She stood abruptly, the chair she was sitting in rocking before settling down again. "My God Grimmjow, what happened to you? When did you become so cruel?"

He smiled wickedly and stood as well, "This is how I have always been."

"No," her breath caught in her throat, "You used to understand what it meant to dream…"

"Dreams don't fill your belly, and they sure as hell don't put presents under the Christmas tree," he shot back. "Those kids need to learn that lesson. Better sooner than later so they can stop relying on others to provide for their futures. In this world no one really gives a shit about their dreams."

"I disagree," she whispered.

"And look where that's gotten you," his words were in fact cruel, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. She made him feel so fucking vulnerable. She always did. "Your dreams have landed you at my doorstep begging for a handout."

Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him, "I didn't want to believe what they said about you in the papers or on the gossip shows, but I see that they were telling the truth, you are nothing more than a selfish, arrogant bastard."

"A rich bastard though," he grinned and she lowered her gaze.

"I'm sorry I wasted your time," her voice was choked and he wondered if she was fighting tears. Most likely; her kind would rely on whatever they could to get a donation, even stooping to tears.

She gave him her back though and left without another word. He stood rooted in place. Damn it. He hadn't meant to be such an asshole, but in his heart he had had a fleeting moment where he believed she had been there to see him, and only him. Yet she had wanted something from him, just like everybody else, and he was so angry that he had even dared hope, that he had lashed out at her with every bitter feeling he possessed.

He walked over to the bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey. Swallowing the spirit he grimaced as it burned his throat. He then proceeded to drink another. Still it did nothing to fill the emptiness in his gut.

"Fucking Christmas," he slammed the glass down shattering it on the cold granite counter.


	2. Chapter 2

_A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens _

_Bleach and its characters are the creation of Tite Kubo_

* * *

**Chapter Two:**

Marley was dead, to begin with ... This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate." ― Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

Grimmjow slammed out of the elevator that opened exclusively to his penthouse apartment. Shrugging out of his coat he dropped it on the floor as he made his way to the bar in his media room. This time he did not bother with shots. He grabbed the entire bottle of whiskey and sat down hard on one of the over-sized chairs. Unscrewing the lid he placed the bottle to his lips and took a long drink.

This day had sucked. Christmas Eve usually set him in a foul mood, but this year he was fit to be tied. As if seeing Orihime had not been bad enough, his half brother, Toshiro, had refused to be put off. The kid barreled through his office door and demanded that he come to Christmas dinner.

_"Damn it Grimmjow, I'm family, your only family, and families should be together on Christmas."_

_ "If you're worried about your tuition…"_

_ "This is not about money. This is about you and me."_

_ "Toshiro, as much as you believe there is a you and me, we both know better than that. I promised mom I would take care of you, and I have, but this notion that we should be friends, and share in each other's lives is growing tiresome."_

His brother had tried to hide the pain his words caused him, but Grimmjow knew the kid was hurt. Yet he didn't care. It was better that Toshiro understand that he was not about to share his life with anybody, even his baby brother. Still the young man had left with the invitation still open.

"Fucking idiot," he said softly into the empty room. "I don't need you or anyone else."

He took another drink and laid his head back on the chair. He smiled bitterly as the liquid scorched its path down his throat. He was going to get fucking wasted tonight, and by the time he woke up from this binge maybe Christmas would be over.

* * *

The room was dark. The only light coming from the huge screen mounted on the wall. Grimmjow had pulled up old video footage of his days playing professional basketball. The more he drank, the less it hurt to watch himself so young and full of passion. Yet that passion had been extinguished by the time he turned twenty-six. A career ending injury to his left shoulder left him unable to perform at the top of his game, and before he knew it he was let go from his position, and spent the next year being passed along to several other teams before finally throwing in the towel; washed up after only six years in the NBA.

Yet he never gave up. He simply changed direction. He was good looking, and already had several sponsors. And when those contracts began to thin, he decided to invest his money in a sporting goods line. Taking over the failing business and making it the billion dollar empire it was today. That it had only taken him five years had been remarkable, but he knew it was from hard work. He never wallowed in his pain and disappointment, and he refused to lean on anyone to get to the top. Now that he was there he was never going back.

"I've worked too hard," his words were slurred from the alcohol, but he didn't notice. Instead he rambled on, "I made my fortune by my own merit. You hear me?" he yelled to no one in particular, and then lowering his voice he mumbled, "I deserve to enjoy my riches."

His head slumped forward and the empty bottle fell to the floor from his slackened grasp. His breathing grew deep and soft snores escaped his lips. No other sound could be heard; he had muted the TV quite some time ago.

He had achieved his goal for the night, and barring alcohol poisoning, he was getting just what he desired.

* * *

As the night grew late the room grew cold. The TV flickered and then went out. A chill swept over the passed out drunk and Grimmjow burrowed against the side of the chair trying to get warm.

Suddenly he woke with a start.

"What the hell is that?" he whispered as he grabbed his head. Even the soft sound of his voice made his head ache terribly.

The noise sounded again; a heavy scraping on the tile floor in the hallway.

"Damn it that tile is expensive," he sat up tall and then noticed how cold the room was. He could actually see his breath as he spoke, "Now what?"

He got to his feet, but the sudden motion caused him to sway and he fell back hard on the chair.

"You're a fucking mess," a voice, gravelly and cold, dead cold, spoke and then laughed.

Grimmjow gagged as a putrid odor struck his nostrils.

"Oh God what is that horrible smell," he sputtered.

"Hey, you die and rot in hell for a few years and see how good _you_ smell," the voice replied.

He looked up and screamed in shock. Standing in the doorway was his old teammate, Nnoitra Gilga. Or at least what remained of him. The corpse in front of him was rotted. The skin that remained was mummified leather that stretched eerily across his face as he leered at Grimmjow.

"You are dead," Grimmjow whispered.

"And you just fucking pissed your pants, Grimmjow," Nnoitra laughed, the motion causing his jaw to almost unhinge in its unnatural state. "What's the problem? Never seen a ghost before?"

"There are no such things as ghosts," Grimmjow raised his voice.

"Then what am I?"

Grimmjow looked to the empty whiskey bottle on the floor beside the chair.

"A hallucination brought on by too much alcohol, and a nasty sense of nostalgia."

Nnoitra laughed even harder and Grimmjow placed his hand over his own mouth as a rather large bug crawled out of the man's mouth and re-entered his head through the empty socket of his left eye.

"You are not real."

"As real as a heart attack," the tall corpse sneered. "And if you would just shut the fuck up for a moment I could tell you why they dragged my ass out of hell to visit you tonight."

"You're in hell?"

"You think these chains are some twisted fashion statement?" Nnoitra became angry. Grimmjow hadn't even noticed the chains before, but now he couldn't stop looking at them. They were long and seemed to weigh a ton. The links wrapped around the corpse's body and dragged along the floor.

"You are gonna ruin my tile," Grimmjow stated, trying to regain his calm. This is just a hallucination after all, he reminded himself.

"You think I give a crap about your goddamn floor," the tall corpse stepped closer, the chains definitely marring the surface. Stepping over the threshold, the chains became muffled from the carpet in his media room. Looking around the man said with awe, "Sweet room and that TV is fucking huge. You ever watch porn on it?"

"You are perverted as usual," Grimmjow said coolly, "Even if you are a product of my imagination."

The man moved with lightening quick speed and pinned Grimmjow to the back of the chair with his long boney fingers. His breath was cold, but it stunk of death.

"Could I get you a Tic Tac?" he asked sarcastically.

"You can get off your fucking high horse and listen to me," Nnoitra shouted. "I don't have much time and this is important shit."

"Really, because a breath mint would make whatever you have to say much more palatable."

"Listen, you fucking prick I didn't have to do this," the corpse yelled, "Well actually they did force me, but that's beside the point. I have something to say and you need to listen. It could save your immortal soul."

Grimmjow burst out laughing, "My immortal soul? You say that like you believe it."

"I'm not fucking around Jaegerjaquez," Nnoitra stared at him and he grew uncomfortable. "This is big. You are in deep shit with the powers that be and unless you change your life quick, you will end up like me."

"Hey I'm not some fucking addict that can't control my habit!" Grimmjow snarled.

"Yeah throw that in my face," Nnoitra leaned closer. "I'm paying for it, believe me. In hell there are no chicks to fuck. Not even the fat ones will touch me. And heroin is not allowed. So I am a miserable mess. And these chains…don't even get me started."

"Well you always had a thing for the bling," Grimmjow laughed.

"Bling! This isn't fucking bling. These things weigh a ton, and yours my friend," he poked Grimmjow with a boney finger, "Have links ten times this long."

"Shut the fuck up," he pushed the corpse but Nnoitra didn't budge. "I'm not a sex addicted junkie…"

"But you are a self absorbed, selfish asshole," Nnoitra was deadly serious.

"It's my money," Grimmjow said. "I can do with it as I please."

"You keep telling yourself that asshole," Nnoitra stated. "But St. Peter will throw it, along with your sorry ass, down into the fiery pit."

"Don't get all religious with me…"

"It's the fucking truth," the corpse spoke softly.

Doesn't matter," Grimmjow lowered his voice as well, "I'm not exactly heavenly material."

"Not as you are now," Nnoitra said in all seriousness, "But you still have time Grimmjow. You can change."

"No I can't," he raised his voice again, "And maybe I don't want to. It's my money. My life…"

"You throw that life around like its something to be trifled with," Nnoitra stated, "But I'll tell you, I'd give anything for a chance to ease this suffering; a chance to change before all this happened."

"I am not redeemable."

"Well you sure as hell better try," Nnoitra backed up. He made his way to the doorway and then began to trudge towards the terrace.

"Where are you going?" Grimmjow followed him.

Nnoitra threw open the French doors and stepped out into the frigid night air.

"Back to hell," Nnoitra stated.

He looked to the skies and Grimmjow followed his gaze. There flying about were thousands of other souls, each dragging chains, all moaning as in pain.

"Looks like my ride is here," Nnoitra remarked and then turning back to Grimmjow he said, "Oh by the way, you're gonna get visited by three spirits tonight. Never met them, but they're gonna help you get your shit together. Listen to what they have to say and maybe you can get that second chance I never did."

With that he jumped from the balcony railing and sailed off to join the other damned souls.

"Fucking unbelievable," Grimmjow whispered and then, still under the influence of the alcohol passed out right there in the snow that had fallen on the cold marble floor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** I am going to try to update every other day with the intent to have the story completed online before Christmas.

Thanks to **Walis** for reviewing both chapters so far, and to **Lonewingwriter** and **sweet-penelope** for their reviews on chapter one.

_A Christmas Carol_ by Charles Dickens

_Bleach_ by Tite Kubo

* * *

Chapter Three:

He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count 'em up: what then? The happiness he gives is quite as great as if it cost a fortune." ― Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

Grimmjow woke some time later. His teeth were chattering and as he took in his surroundings he wondered how he had ended up on his terrace. Last thing he remembered was getting hammered in front of the TV and then…

Nnoitra appeared.

Shit no, that was a drunken hallucination. Nothing more. He had most likely been sleepwalking as he imagined the whole thing. Rubbing his hands over his face he thought maybe getting that shitfaced was actually a stupid idea. He could very well have walked right off the balcony and fallen to his death.

_"You throw that life around like its something to be trifled with."_

Nnoitra's words shouted at him and he shuddered. He was a fucking moron. A moron for getting so drunk. A moron for hallucinating a dead teammate. And a moron for passing out in freezing temperatures.

Walking inside he headed for his bedroom. He needed to sleep this off. Yet as he passed the old grandfather clock he had in the hall it began to chime midnight, and a chill went down his spine. Didn't Nnoitra say something about three spirits coming to visit?

"Hallucination you fucking idiot," he chided himself as he continued to head for his room.

Yet as the clock chimed the last time, he approached his bed only to find someone already lying on it.

"Glad to see you could join me," a man with pale pink hair and glasses pushed up and reclined, leaning on his one elbow. He had a glow about him that illuminated the room, and smiling said, with humor in his voice, "It really wouldn't do if you had frozen to death before I even got my chance to perform."

"Perform?" he asked wondering who this freaking lunatic was and how long it would take for the guys with the white coats to come and take the odd man away.

"Well all the world is a stage I always say."

"I think that was Shakespeare," Grimmjow replied evenly.

The other man laughed and bringing his hand to rest under his chin remarked, "Oh I got an educated one tonight." He winked at Grimmjow which caused him to take a step back.

"Look I'm not into fruitcake, even if it is Christmas…"

The man laughed sarcastically, "And you believe yourself to be so humorous." He glided across the bed and sat up only a few feet from where Grimmjow stood. His eyes lost their mirth and he said, angrier now, "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, and I deserve to be treated respectfully."

"You're wearing a fucking dress," he shot back.

"It's actually quite festive," the spirit declared and rose to his feet beside Grimmjow. The spirit ran his hands lazily down the material that clung tightly to his torso and gave way to a flowing skirt, which he grasped in his hands. He gave a small twirl and the white fabric began to glow brilliantly as it spun around his body. "I only wear it for the most special of occasions."

"So you do this sort of thing often?" he asked. Sarcasm now his only weapon left to keep his mind from stepping into loonyville.

"Only on the most difficult of cases," the man winked again.

"Ha, ha," Grimmjow said coolly.

"You asked," the spirit teased. "But enough of this, we have so little time before I must leave you, and still so much to see."

"Much to see?" he asked.

"Yes, your past idiot. It's why I'm here after all."

"There is nothing in my past that I need to revisit," Grimmjow backed up a step.

The spirit closed the distance and grabbed his hand, the light he emitted growing even brighter, "Oh I beg to differ. Your life could fill many hours on the psychiatrist's couch, but we don't have that much time, so I'll show you the cliff notes version – the Christmas edition."

Grimmjow tried to pull back his hand, but for a slight man the spirit was amazingly strong.

"None of that," the man teased again, "You have to do this. Its part of the three-ghost special."

"I don't need to see my past to know it was fucked up," Grimmjow shouted trying to mask his growing apprehension.

"The bad times you cling to all too well, but there was joy as well," the spirit smiled genuinely this time, "That you seem to have forgotten."

Grimmjow still resisted but the spirit held firm.

"Your memories have been locked away in a darkened place, purposelessly forgotten, yet my light will shine into those areas and hopefully give you some insight as to why you have become the man you are today."

"I can pay a shrink to do that for me if I desired," Grimmjow growled low, "I don't need you poking around in places you don't belong."

"Ah but poking around is what I do best," he waved his other hand and the room became pitch black. Yet before Grimmjow could say anything to the contrary, a bright light began to shine and suddenly he was standing in the hospital.

"Why are we here?" he questioned, no longer bothering to explain the strange man's presence.

"Just watch," the pink-haired spirit smiled again. "Remember this place."

"Yeah," Grimmjow finally freed his hand. "My little brother was born here."

"Exactly," the spirit clapped his hands together, "Christmas day twenty years ago."

Grimmjow noticed they were now in a room. In the bed sat his mother with the new baby in her hands. A teenage boy stood beside her.

"Hey that's me," he said as he caught sight of himself. "I was not quite thirteen."

"Yes," the spirit remarked. "Most boys would have been jealous having to share their mother with someone new."

"She deserved happiness," Grimmjow's voice was low. "My father left her high and dry when he found out she was pregnant with me. Besides, Gin was good to her. He tried to be good to Toshiro as well but…"

He looked to the scene before him. His mother was so happy, and she seemed perfectly healthy. He watched as she handed him the small bundle and advised him as how to hold the child.

_"He's so tiny," his younger self said with awe. The baby began to wail and he laughed, "But he's got some pipes."_

_ She laughed as well, "He's got spunk."_

_ Grimmjow laughed harder. They talked for quite a while and the baby finally calmed down and fell asleep. He was about to hand the baby back to his mother when she became very serious. Laying a hand on his arm she said, "Grimmjow, I know there is a huge age difference between you, but promise me you will always be there for Toshiro. Provide for him when I can't anymore."_

_ "Jeez mom," he laughed. "You're only thirty-two. You'll be around a long time still."_

"But she died," his voice grew hoarse and his eyes blurred as he fought to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

"It was a shame," the spirit remarked. "She wanted that baby with all her heart." He peered at Grimmjow and continued, "You must resent the little tyke for inadvertently bringing about her death."

"It wasn't his fault," Grimmjow stood still, his hands clenched in tight fists at his side. It was the doctor's carelessness after the kid had been born. The man hadn't cleaned her out properly, at least that was how Gin had phrased it, and she had died of infection only weeks later. "It was that goddamn doctor."

"Yeah, I guess it was," the spirit sighed, "But the kid's father didn't quite see it that way, and he never did quite get over her loss did he?"

Yet before Grimmjow could respond, the room became dark again and just as quickly the light reappeared. They now appeared in the hallway of a rundown apartment building. Grimmjow caught sight of himself and the young child, Toshiro, beside him clinging to his leg. He stood outside an apartment door with a bag of groceries in his hand.

"Christmas a few years later," the spirit observed.

"I was sixteen," Grimmjow felt his gut tighten and his heart strain painfully in his chest. He remembered this Christmas. It was the first one he had spent with Orihime.

He watched as his younger self knocked on her door. The kid had a stupid grin on his face, which only spread wider when she opened the door and greeted him. Yet before he could even speak, the child beside him quickly latched onto the young girl and her attention shifted.

_Picking up Toshiro she finally looked at Grimmjow again, "Is your stepfather coming later?"_

_ "He got a new job," Grimmjow's voice was cool, "We'll see if this one lasts."_

_ She nodded and let him inside. "I know money is always appreciated, but to have to work on Christmas Day…it's just not right."_

_ He placed the bag on the counter and looked back at her, "Christmas or not, we can barely make ends meet as it is. He has little choice." Something in her expression changed. She seemed saddened by his response and he must have noticed it too because the cold edge to his voice vanished and he said lightly, "I've got some treats." He opened the bag and rifled through the contents. "This one lady at the mission gave us some extra food, and then after Toshiro here graced her with his big baby blues, she threw in a pie as well. All on the hush, hush," he grinned._

_ She smiled and tousled Toshiro's hair, "Good job buddy." She looked back to Grimmjow and continued, "He's gonna be a heartbreaker when he gets older."_

_ "Yeah, well he'll have to get rid of that pissy disposition if he wants to attract a girl," his words may have been harsh but the tone was not. Toshiro was gruff; had always been. Yet the kid had a way with the ladies, and Orihime was no exception. Sometimes he became jealous at the attention she gave his little brother, but he understood. She was a nurturer, and God knew the poor kid needed someone to pay attention to him._

_ "So where is Sora?" he asked._

_ "He's cleaning up," she smiled, "Gotta wash all the white out of his hair."_

_ "Isn't he a little young to be playing Santa?"_

_ "He loves to make the kids smile," she said as she put Toshiro down and started to open the various cans of vegetables to warm for their meal. "He says it's the best gift he can get at Christmas."_

"Those two had no money, and yet that guy always loved Christmas," Grimmjow stated.

The spirit laughed, "Sora Inoue understood the true meaning of Christmas – It's better to give than to receive."

"Yeah, well better to not expect handouts either," Grimmjow tried to shake off the ache the scene before them brought to his heart.

"You seemed to have no trouble accepting the goodwill of others," the spirit admonished him.

"We had to survive," Grimmjow stated, "And I hated it. That one woman was an exception. Most people looked at us like we were filthy beggars."

"I would have to disagree with you," the spirit becoming serious again, "Most people who spend their Christmas in the service of others, do so for the joy it brings them to help those in need."

"Exactly," he replied, "They joy _they_ receive. The accolades they get for being so noble…"

"Do you think that was how Sora saw things too?" he threw back at Grimmjow.

Grimmjow glanced back at the scene as the small group sat around the tiny table in Orihime's apartment. They were laughing at something her brother had said, and the smile on the man's face was genuine. No, Sora did it for the pleasure of seeing those smiles. He understood that.

"He always made the worst of situations seem better," he whispered. "He made Christmas bearable."

"He was a good man to take in that child like he did when their parent's died. He sacrificed a lot for her happiness," the spirit turned his attention to the small group as well. "It was a shame his life was cut so tragically short."

"Yeah," Grimmjow's voice grew cold, "That was the thanks he got for all his charity."

"Even if he had known the outcome of that day, I do not believe he would have changed a thing," the spirit stated.

"I fucking beg to differ," Grimmjow snapped. "He left Orihime alone…"

"She would have had you…"

"Shut up," Grimmjow yelled. "You seem to know my past all too well. So you would also know that she was left with no one when her brother died."

"Your choice of course," the spirit grew spiteful.

"Enough," Grimmjow said, "I thought this was supposed to be happy shit."

"True," the spirit replied, "But you had a way of destroying that happiness, didn't you?"

He grabbed the spirit by the collar and said in an icy cold voice, "I did what I had to do. My life wasn't a happy one to begin with…"

The scene grew dark and he felt a warm tingle as they moved forward in time once more, and when the lights went on it wasn't as bright as before. He released the spirit and looked around. This was Orihime's bedroom. The room was dark, except for one candle that burned brightly on the end table by the rickety old bed.

"Christmas the following year," the spirit said coolly. "I see you took full advantage of her brother being away for the evening."

He glanced to the tiny bed. Orihime lay naked in his arms and he gently stroked her long hair as they held each other. Toshiro was in the other room, asleep on the couch. The heat in their own apartment had been cut off, so Sora had let them crash at their place for a few days. Whether the man knew what he and Orihime did when he wasn't around was still a mystery to him, and he wondered what would have happened if her brother had ever discovered them together.

Grimmjow refused to respond to the spirit's snarky remark. Instead he kept his silent gaze on the two young lovers. He had taken her virginity only a few weeks earlier. They had been friends since they were kids, yet as they grew into adults those feelings of friendship changed, and he found himself unable to keep his eyes off of her. She had been so damn innocent, and she made him feel like he could become somebody important one day.

She was his most ardent supporter. Every home game they had, she would be there with Toshiro in tow. He could hear her enthusiastic cheering from the court, and it always drove him on, even when his muscles ached from the strain, and his heart felt like it would burst from his chest. He never wanted to let her down, so he drove himself even harder.

_"I love Christmas," Orihime said dreamily as she ran her fingers lightly over his chest._

_ "There's not much to love about it," he replied. He watched as her silky hair fell from his gentle grasp. "Every year it's the same. No money, no gifts; begging for handouts."_

_ She pushed up and looked down at him, "But we have each other."_

_ He looked into her beautiful grey eyes and lost himself. _

_ "You are the only worthwhile thing in my life."_

_ She giggled and said, "You have Toshiro, and Sora, and don't forget the basketball team…the supporting cast," she teased him all the time about that. He was the star of the show, people would always say._

_ "Basketball is my only way out of this shithole," he remarked._

_ "I have faith that you'll do it," she kissed his chest tenderly. "And when you do you'll be able to give your brother the life he deserves."_

_ "And what about you?" he asked. The apprehension was in his voice, no matter how hard he tried to dismiss it. He never felt he was good enough to keep her. "Will you let me take you with me as well?"_

_ She smiled and he sighed with a deep relief. Why did he doubt her?_

"You loved her," the spirit whispered from beside him.

He shook his head to clear the images. Honestly he had forgotten the man was even there. Looking at Orihime so earnest in her affections, and then to himself…he realized with shock that he _had_ loved her, as much as he tried to deny it. He loved her with every ounce of goodness that was left in his wretched soul.

"She was a fool to believe in me," he said bitterly.

The spirit did not reply. Instead the scene changed again - another Christmas. Only this one he wished to forget.

He was in college on a full scholarship. Toshiro was left in Gin's care and Grimmjow reasoned that at six the boy would be able to fend for himself. The school provided at least two meals a day, and if the boy needed help he could always turn to Orihime.

Orihime…she had stayed behind. College was a dream she could not afford. Instead she worked two jobs and saved every penny she could. Sometimes he felt guilty that he had found a way out, but other times he dismissed that guilt. He worked hard to be in this position. He deserved it - just like he deserved the praise and all the rewards that went with it.

He was destined to be a star. Everyone knew it. Yet those same people all wanted a piece of him as well. The friends he had, the girls that threw themselves into his bed, they all wanted to be associated with him because he was a winner. At first he had felt like a complete shit for accepting the offers made to him, especially from the many women who sought his company, but hell he deserved some fun, and after all they were using him; why not use them in return.

The spirit had deposited them in Grimmjow's dorm room. He had stayed behind this Christmas. He said it was to stay at the top of his game, yet he knew the real reason was that he couldn't face Orihime. Not after the girls he had slept with since coming here. She still believed in him, but when it came to his character he did not share her view. He was a shitty person and he didn't deserve her. One day he would lose her. Better to soften the blow with other women.

His attention was drawn to the door of his room. A loud knock was heard and his stomach dropped as he remembered what was coming.

"We should leave," he said to the spirit.

"But the show is truly about to begin," the man smiled.

"I know how this plays out," he replied bitterly. "I don't need to live it again."

"Oh but I think you do," the spirit said coldly.

Grimmjow watched in horror as his younger self opened the door. He had managed to slip into some sweatpants, but his chest was bare, and if one looked close enough they could see the scrapes on his back from where his latest conquest had marked him during their recent tussle. Orihime though seemed oblivious. Instead she threw herself into his arms and hugged him to her body.

_"Surprise," she exclaimed. "I felt bad that you would have to spend Christmas alone, so I got a bus ticket and here I am."_

_ "You shouldn't have," he knew he had to get rid of her before she found the woman still in his bed._

_ "Yes I should have," she kissed him enthusiastically. "I couldn't bear the idea of spending Christmas without you."_

_ He couldn't resist her, even though he knew he should. Hell another woman's scent still clung to him. It was wrong to taint Orihime in this way, but she tasted so damn good. She ran her hands over his bare chest and grinned against his lips. _

_ "I missed you," she said. He could hear the longing in her voice and for a moment he forgot the other woman lying in his bed._

_ That was until a rather annoying cough disrupted the moment. Both he and Orihime looked up, and there stood the other woman, naked, hands on her hips, and hatred in her eyes._

_ "This is my night, bitch," she glared at Orihime. "Find some other time to get lucky with him."_

_ Orihime pulled back from his embrace._

_ "Grimmjow?" her voice was so small and her eyes filled with tears._

_ "Orihime…" he tried, but what could he say._

_ "Oh God, Grimmjow, I thought…all this time I believed…" She backed up and absently grabbed the doorknob. Her eyes never left the other woman. "I thought you loved me."_

_ He stood motionless. In his chest his heart raced and every breath hurt painfully. Yet he never said a word. He just watched as she backed out of the room._

"Say something asshole!" Grimmjow yelled at his younger self. "Stop her while you still can."

"He can't hear you," the spirit interrupted. "And even if he could he wouldn't go after her."

"But she was the only decent and honest thing in my entire life," he said with complete sincerity. His feelings were now crystal clear to him.

"That may be true, but you let her go," the spirit replied.

"No," he buried his face in his hands. "I should have gone after her…I should have…"

"What? Begged for forgiveness?" the spirit taunted. "You and I know how much you hate to beg."

Grimmjow reached out and grabbed the man by the throat.

"Get me the fuck out of here. Now!"

The spirit only grinned, but the light he emitted began to dim. Yet before darkness swallowed him up completely, the spirit called out eerily to him, "You can try to extinguish my light, but the things you have remembered this night will not be so easily forgotten. A small light will always remain, and the truth will haunt you beyond this moment."

The night became dark and when Grimmjow awoke this time he was alone, lying in his bed in his penthouse. The only light now came from the city lights that danced across his ceiling. His breathing was labored and his chest hurt so deeply that he wondered if maybe he was dying.

"Damn it!" he sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. Rising to his feet he began to pace. "Fucking shit; why'd I have to go and remember all that?"

The encounter with the supernatural was dismissed. He refused to believe any of this bizarre evening's events. All he knew was that he had managed to successfully bury this pain for almost fourteen years, but now it was as fresh as the day it had happened.

"You goddamn fucking moron," he yelled at himself. "Why are you doing this? You know it wouldn't have worked. She wanted something you couldn't give. She believed you were noble, when you weren't. Better that it ended like that. Better she found out for herself."

Yet it still stung. He didn't want to lose her, but his fucking inability to control himself had cost him dearly. He lost everything that night, because when she walked out that door she took his heart with him. In its place was a cold empty hole and no matter how hard he worked, and no matter how much success he attained, he could never fill that emptiness.

He swayed again on his feet and fell back onto the bed. Laying there as the world spun unpleasantly around him, he closed his eyes. She would have used him. In the end everybody did. Still it hurt. In fact it never stopped aching.

And now…now that he knew he had truly loved her, it hurt worse than anything he had ever experienced in his entire life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:** This chapter is chuck full of some of my favorite crack ships from Bleach. I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks to **Lainybug07** for the three consecutive reviews - you made a rather rough day much more bearable! Thanks also to **szayels** for the review - glad you are enjoying the story.

I hope to update tomorrow, but am not sure if I will have time for the final edit.

* * *

**Chapter Four:**

And therefore, Uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that [Christmas] has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!" ― Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

The clock chimed loudly and his head ached almost as much as his heart. He was so tired. This night was exhausting him in a way he could not even begin to explain. He was weary, down to the marrow in his bones, and he wished it would end.

The laughter of a child disrupted his lament. Slowly he looked around, but saw no one. Closing his eyes again he wallowed in his sorrow. Yet the giggle sounded again, louder, closer this time.

"Who the hell is there!" he yelled as he sat up.

The bed shook and then a small child appeared - a little girl with green hair, wearing a white lace nightgown embroidered with red thread around the collar. On her head was a crown made from holly leaves and dusted with snow and ice, so that it sparkled in the dim light cast by the moon shining through his bedroom window. She smiled a lopsided grin and he saw that some of her teeth were missing.

"Please tell me you are not the second spirit," he groaned.

The child stood and danced around the bed, "The Ghost of Christmas Present, in the flesh."

She laughed as she began to bounce merrily on the mattress.

"Stop that," he yelled and then clutched his throbbing head.

"Ah, does the poor man have a hangover?" she laughed.

"You keep jumping like that and I may just puke on you, you little brat," he groaned.

She laughed harder. "Self control is a good thing…you should try it sometime."

He growled as he lunged for her. "You are fucking annoying."

"Oh such bad language from the drunken old man," she teased.

"I am not old," he shouted as he failed to grab her.

She stopped short and grasped his face in her chubby little hands. Peering deeply into his eyes she commented, "You may as well be. Your soul is worn out."

"Yeah, well I have not been having the best night," he shook his head free.

"You're fault," she jumped away and scurried out of the room.

He chased after her and came up short as he found her sitting at his dining room table. Christmas treats of every kind adorned the surface. She was gorging on sweets when he approached.

"I love Christmas," her voice was muffled by all the food crammed into her tiny mouth, "So much good stuff to eat."

"So are you just going to sit here and stuff your fat face, or is there some place we have to go?" he asked rudely.

She looked up and smiled. Gummy bears stuck to what little teeth she had.

"Yeah, yeah, always so impatient."

"The other spirit said his time was limited," he stated.

"And so is mine," she huffed, "But it doesn't mean I can't enjoy myself."

"At my expense."

"Oh my God, you really are a Grinch," she complained as she hopped down from the chair.

"I just want this over with," he crossed his arms and glared at her.

"Fine," she stomped her foot and the room swayed.

He fought the nausea again and just when he thought he would throw up the motion stopped. He looked around. The room was unfamiliar and he questioned if she even knew what she was doing.

"Where the hell are we?" he asked.

She licked the last of the chocolate off her fingers and said, "You don't recognize this place?" She gave him a nasty look. "Of course you wouldn't. The woman has only worked like a slave for you for the last five years, but you would never have thought to pay her a social call, even at the holidays."

"Nanao?" he looked around the tidy apartment and spotted his secretary reclining on the couch, a newspaper in her hands, her bare feet currently receiving a massage from some guy with a beard. "I guess even Nanao can get lucky at Christmas."

The child kicked him hard in the shin. "That's her husband, stupid."

"Husband? That's impossible. Nanao is not married."

"She got married last June," the child sighed in exasperation.

He thought back to the previous summer. Oh yes; now he remembered. The event cost him a week of her expertise when she went away for her honeymoon.

"Okay so I forgot. Shoot me why don't you."

"Not so fast grouch," she laughed. "I still have stuff to show you."

"And these two have a lesson for me?" he asked.

"Look at them," the girl said.

Nanao read her paper while her husband continued to rub her foot. Suddenly he replaced his hands with his mouth as he made his way up her leg. On reflex Grimmjow shot his hand out to cover the spirit's eyes. His stomach flipped over. Watching his hard as nails secretary getting passionate was not what he wanted to witness.

Her husband stopped to tear the newspaper from her grasp. His lips then took hers in a rather deep kiss. Grimmjow closed his eyes, but he could not shut his ears to the sounds coming from the two.

"Please make it stop," he pleaded.

The spirit giggled as she forced his hand from her eyes.

_"Shunsui," Nanao was breathless, "We haven't even had breakfast."_

_ "You're all I want for breakfast, my sweet," the man crooned._

"Oh God please, make it stop," Grimmjow gagged.

_Nanao shot the man a look as well, but it was obvious she loved her husband and his words were common endearments that she endured happily. The man moved his lips to her neck and she sighed at his touch._

"I feel like a pervert," Grimmjow said.

"Oh just shut up and wait," the child yelled. "You're ruining this for me."

"You're just a kid," he turned to her but was surprised that she looked a bit older. Her head reached his waist and her hair seemed longer. Hell, with all the weird shit going down this night it wasn't surprising that he had missed a few things.

His attention though shot back to the couple on the couch as Shunsui spoke again, _"How about you call that boss of yours and tell him you're taking off the rest of the week and we head for warmer waters."_

"Fucking slacker," Grimmjow spat. "I need her by my side. The week after Christmas is a nightmare of paperwork."

_"I can't leave him this week," Nanao echoed his words. "There is way too much to do."_

_ "I know you are valuable to him my sweet," Shunsui pouted, "But sometimes I feel like you're married to him and that job, rather than me."_

_ This brought an unexpected snort from his secretary. "Grimmjow?" now she laughed in earnest. "Oh, God forbid. That man has no idea how to live."_

_ "And my sweet Nanao needs excitement," the man kissed her collarbone as his hands went to the belt of her robe._

_ "I need a man who understands what it means to love with his heart," she stated. _

Grimmjow was shocked. Not that he had ever entertained the notion of Nanao, as anything but a secretary, it was still odd to hear her say such things about him. And who would have ever believed the woman had a passionate bone in her body.

_Shunsui laughed as he buried his face in the silk fabric covering his wife's breasts. "So let's go away."_

_ "I can't."_

_ "He had you all to himself on Christmas Eve…"_

_"And you have me all to yourself on Christmas Day," she ran her fingers through the man's long hair._

_ "I want more Nanao," the man looked up. "That man…I don't believe he even sees you as a person."_

_ "I am his secretary," she reminded him._

_ "But you're still a human being," he grew serious. "Honestly I worry that if you continue to work for him, you'll grow just as cold and callous."_

_ She smiled warmly and placed a hand on his cheek, "I have you to keep me from falling into that fate."_

_ "Glad I can service you so," the man winked, "But seriously, maybe you should look for an employer that appreciates you."_

Grimmjow clenched his jaw tightly. How dare that man try to take his secretary away; she was the best in the business and he would not let her go without a fight.

"_He appreciates me," she whispered._

_ "Bullshit Nanao," her husband pushed up onto his elbow and stared at her. "He doesn't even give you a Christmas bonus…"_

_ "He gives no one bonuses."_

_ "Exactly," Shunsui said. "He's a miser and a selfish bastard."_

"This man…," Grimmjow started.

"…is very honest," the spirit finished for him.

He glared at her.

_"I don't need a bonus to know he is satisfied with my performance," Nanao sat up and pushed her husband off of her._

_ "Does he ever simply tell you?" her husband asked._

_ "I know," Nanao blushed._

_"Leave him Nanao," Shunsui said softly._

_ "I can't," she rose to her feet. Glancing down at him she said, "Please don't ask me again."_

The room swayed uncomfortably once more and Grimmjow clutched his stomach as the bile rose in his throat.

"Could you fucking warn me when you do that?" he yelled.

"But then it wouldn't be any fun," the girl spoke.

Yet she didn't sound like a child anymore. He turned to look at her and noticed she now came up to his chest. And the kid had breasts. Damn big ones.

"What the hell is happening to you?" he asked.

She twirled about. The nightgown now clung to her curves and she grinned, "I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," she reminded him. "I am born on Christmas morning, grow older as the day progresses, until I pass away at midnight."

"Holy shit," Grimmjow blurted.

"It is my life," she smiled. "I bring joy and happiness to the world. That stuff takes a lot of energy," she winked. "Besides Christmas Day can only last but twenty-four hours. Yet I will live in mankind's heart all year long…so my life will not be so easily forgotten."

"Sounds like a load of horseshit to me," he replied.

This time she punched him hard in the gut.

"You are a mean man," she huffed. "Now let's get on with this, shall we?"

He looked around another unfamiliar setting.

"Your brother's fiancée's family's home," she said.

"That's a mouthful," he spoke absently as he looked at the huge Christmas tree that filled the room. Toshiro stood gazing at the lights and the ornaments.

_"We never had a tree," Toshiro said wistfully to his fiancée. "My whole life – we either couldn't afford one or Grimmjow refused to waste the money on one."_

_ The dark-haired girl rubbed his shoulders. "Your brother is a Grinch."_

_ "He wasn't always like that Karin," Toshiro continued to look at the tree. "When I was young…he tried to make things right. Things just changed after he went to college…after he broke up with Orihime…"_

_ "His loss," she remarked._

_ "It was," Toshiro agreed. "Still, he provided for me when dad died."_

_ "He sent you to boarding school."_

_ "It was the best prep school on the east coast," Toshiro turned and looked his fiancée in the eye. _

_ "You were eight years old," she laid her hands on his chest._

_ "He left college early to turn pro so he could afford the tuition," Toshiro's voice was cold._

_ "True," Karin looked down. "I'm sorry, but it just infuriates me that he won't even share in your life now."_

_ "He hates Christmas," Toshiro replied._

_ "How is it that you don't?" she asked._

_ His gaze turned thoughtful, "I guess I like the cold," he smiled lightly, "and I was born on Christmas," he reached for her hands and squeezed them, "And I suppose deep in my heart I believe that if God could send his own son to this world on this day, to be born into poverty, so that he could redeem our souls, then maybe there is hope for Grimmjow, as lost as he is now."_

_ Karin only smiled in response and Toshiro spoke even softer. "It's been the hope of redemption that has kept me from falling into despair. And now," he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, "I have you."_

_ "I love you Toshiro," she smiled._

_ "I love you Karin," he replied. Glancing back at the tree he said with a faraway voice, "Someday he'll come around. I have to keep trying. He's my brother after all, and even as hard as our life was he never walked away from his responsibility to me – and God knows he could have, in good conscience, on many occasions."_

Grimmjow swallowed hard. The pain in his chest now burned. Toshiro should hate him. He had not given him anything that really mattered. True he paid for his education, and saved him from a life of poverty but what actually counted, what his mother honestly wanted him to give the kid, he hadn't even tried.

The room swayed again but he paid it no mind. His chest hurt far too much to even notice the nausea anymore. When the spinning stopped he looked around. They were now in a gymnasium. The room was poorly decorated in green and red streamers. People were busy blowing up balloons with helium, and others were setting up chairs.

"What now?" he asked wearily.

"The gift giveaway," the spirit replied.

Grimmjow glanced at her again only to notice that she now stood almost eye to eye with him; a woman close to his own age.

"_Towards Tomorrow_," he said with mounting anxiety. He could not do this. The pain of losing Orihime was too fresh in his mind to see her so soon.

"They're still going through with the event, even without presents," the spirit had grown serious as she aged.

"No one wanted to help," he stated.

"You were her last hope," the spirit replied, "But you know Orihime, she refuses to give up believing that someone will come through in the end."

"Idealistic fool," he muttered.

"She learned from the best," she replied.

"Sora," he gasped.

"He loved Christmas. By carrying on his mission, Orihime carries on a peace of his heart," the spirit reflected. "It was hard for her to lose him and so soon after losing you…"

He looked away. He had been so ashamed of his behavior that Christmas that he had not even bothered showing up at Sora's funeral six months later.

"So why show me this?" he asked with anger, "I refused to give her anything."

"Just watch," the spirit said.

He caught sight of Orihime as she dashed about helping with the last minute preparations. Her eyes were dark with purple smudges, but she smiled regardless. He was amazed, just as he had been as a kid, at how she could always show that smile, even in the worst of times.

"Those kids are going to be disappointed," he said.

"Yeah, I guess so, but then those kids need to learn that lesson. Better sooner than later so they can stop relying on others to provide for their futures," she spoke softly, "In this world no one really gives a shit about their dreams."

His words from earlier, spoken again, shamed him even more.

"You don't understand," he said knowing it was pointless to try and defend himself.

"No, I don't," she replied.

Her voice had lost its youthful lilt. Instead she sounded old, and when he gazed at her she was gaunt, her hair now white. Smiling sadly, her grin toothless once more, she said, "There are good people out there Grimmjow, people who carry my spirit in their hearts their entire lives. They don't calculate how their actions will profit them in this world. In fact they don't even do it to save their souls in the next. They care because they know no other way."

The shame he felt swallowed him whole. She smiled sadly.

"Heed my lesson, Grimmjow," she said as her body began to turn to ash and fade away.

He reached for her and awoke with a start; now back in his bed in his room.

"Shit, shit, shit," he shook his head. "Damn it!"

He sat looking out the window at the dark night.

If he hadn't hated Christmas before he sure as hell did now. What more did this horror of a night have for him he feared.

Suddenly the clock chimed and the room grew frigid. A dark, depressing aura fell upon him and he gasped for air. When he looked up a demonic figure stood before him. Horns sprouted from its head, and wings spread across its back

"Ah fuck, you're the third ghost aren't you?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Thanks to **Lainybug07, Lonewingwriter, im ur misconception, szayel, **and** sweet penelope** for reviewing the last chapter. I am happy to hear you are all enjoying the story.

_A Christmas Carol_ by Charles Dickens

_Bleach_ by Tite Kubo

* * *

**Chapter Five:**

"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead," said Scrooge. "But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change." ― Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

The spirit stood silently before him. Grimmjow tried to control the fear that was coursing through his veins as he stared at the creature. From the horns that protruded from its head, to the wings that sprouted from its back, to the fur that covered the lower half of its body, it was a fearsome sight and his heart became heavy with despair. How would he survive an encounter with a creature that had no heart? This he knew because where its heart should be was a gaping hole that seemed to ooze black blood.

It focused its hellish golden eyes on him and spoke in a voice deep and void of all emotion, "Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, I am the ghost of Christmas future."

He was at a loss, and for the first time in his life had no witty comeback. This Christmas had been a nightmare of epic proportions and he simply wanted for it to end. Exhausted he responded, "Just get this over with."

The demonic looking spirit nodded and pointed to the window. A dark portal opened and Grimmjow got up and walked over. Peering inside he turned back and asked, "Where does this lead?"

"To your future," the spirit stated.

"My future," he repeated and then needing to ease his tension he added, "I don't suppose you can show the numbers for the lottery while we're there."

The spirit gave no response and Grimmjow said, "Yeah, I guess not."

Slowly he stepped through the opening and felt a blast of cold air propel him forward. When he came to stop he was once again at Nanao's apartment. His secretary looked tired. Her hair had escaped her usual tight bun, and her eyes were rimmed with black smudges.

"She looks like shit," Grimmjow stated but the spirit remained silent.

Instead he pointed to a note that lay on top of a thick manila envelope on the woman's kitchen table. She walked over and laid her briefcase on the ground by the table. Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she picked up the note and began to read.

Grimmjow heard her gasp, and her skin drained of all color. Curious, he peered over her shoulder and read aloud the message, written in her husband's rather eloquent script.

_My dearest Nanao,_

_It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter. Several years ago, at Christmas I pleaded with you to leave your job and find employment with someone who would appreciate you for your gifts and talents. At the time you dismissed my fears that you would lose your soul to that man and his selfish desires, but now I see that my fears have come to pass. I have tried to give you the space you needed, but I know that you have made up your mind in this. It would seem I have lost you to Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Rather than continue to fight a losing battle for your heart, I have decided to give you your freedom. In this envelope you will find divorce papers. I will not contest it in any way, nor do I want for any of your hard earned money or possessions. I wish things could have been different. I wish you could have loved me more that that man or his company. I only wish the best for you in the future. _

_All my love, _

_Shunsui_

Grimmjow stood in shook. Nanao merely crumpled to the floor. Tears fell from her eyes as she gripped the back of the kitchen chair.

"No, Shunsui," she pleaded to the empty apartment, "Oh God, no."

"What kind of a piece of shit leaves his wife on Christmas," Grimmjow could not contain his anger.

"The man was patient," the spirit answered. "He waited every Christmas for her to change, but in the end Christmas became no different to her than any other day of the year. Why should it matter if he left her on that day, as opposed to any other?"

"But he worshipped her," Grimmjow stared helplessly at Nanao, "And it was obvious that she loved him. Why didn't she just tell me to fuck off?"

"Your life does not exist in a vacuum," the spirit replied. "Your actions, as cold and heartless as they could be at times, had an influence on those closest to you. Nanao lost the Spirit of Christmas and no matter what her husband did to the contrary, she refused to listen."

"So this is my fault," he stated coldly. The spirit remained silent; his golden eyes accusing him of the blame where his words would not. "I didn't even know the guy existed until just a few hours ago."

The spirit pointed a finger and another dark portal opened.

"So that's it? You bring me here to show me how I managed to fuck up Nanao's life and now its time to move on?"

"Nanao is responsible for her own actions," the spirit stated, "Just as you have always been."

"Fuck you," he yelled. "You blame me."

The spirit pointed at the portal.

"You're a fucking piece of shit, you know that?" his earlier fear was replaced with a burning anger. He hated feeling helpless, and Nanao's fate left him feeling just that – helpless.

He glared at the demonic looking spirit and then stepped through the portal. When they arrived at the other side he asked sarcastically, "Who's life are you gonna show me now? Who else did I screw over?"

The spirit showed no emotion. Instead he pointed again and Grimmjow turned to see a run down building. The roof had caved in and the windows were boarded up. Weeds grew as tall as trees and caution tape spanned the perimeter, warning people to stay away.

"This building," his heart stopped in his chest. "It's the recreation center, the one that Orihime worked at."

"She poured her life into that place," the spirit replied. "Not the building mind you, but what it represented."

"So why does it look like this? Did she finally give up?"

"The economy turned for the worse, and people were not as eager to part with their money," the spirit spoke low, "Even less willing to help a woman who could not keep hoodlums from robbing her blind."

"That wasn't her fault," he yelled indignantly.

"People believe what they want," the spirit did not raise his voice in the face of Grimmjow's ire.

"So she abandoned the place?" he couldn't believe Orihime would do such a thing.

"The city condemned the building after her appeals to raise money to restore it failed."

"And what about the kids she serviced?" he asked now incredulous that this could actually happen.

"What do you suppose will become of children with no healthy outlets for their energy, or people to encourage them to follow their dreams?" the spirit asked.

"Prison would be the best case scenario," he spoke with bitterness.

"At least they would receive three meals a day and have a roof over their heads," the spirit agreed.

Grimmjow clenched his hands tightly at his sides. "And this is my fault as well?"

"It is the future," the spirit replied, "A future where Orihime Inoue finally exhausted all her options and lost her ability to pull joy from sorrow."

"Damn it!" Grimmjow screamed. His frustration was like a living creature, prowling about the building, looking for something to devour in its rage.

The spirit did not even blink at his tantrum.

"What about Orihime?" Grimmjow grew fearful again. "What happened to Orihime?"

The spirit again remained silent.

"Take me to Orihime. I need to know what happened to her," he demanded.

The spirit pointed its finger and another portal opened. Terrified of what awaited him on the other side, but needing to know, Grimmjow stepped through. The first thing that struck him about this new location was the sickeningly sweet smell of flowers that permeated the air. He gagged and was about to say something when his eyes caught sight of a casket.

He was in a church, but that was lost on him. All that he could see was the casket. All he could smell were the flowers. And all he could think was that Orihime was dead.

"Orihime," he whispered as he approached the casket by the altar, "Oh God, no. Not this - anything but this."

The spirit stood by his side as he fell to his knees in front of the casket.

"Please…this can't be happening…"

"The woman is not the one in the casket," the spirit said evenly.

Grimmjow looked up and resisted the urge to punch the specter in the face. The spirit merely turned and glanced to the front row of the church. There in the pew sat Orihime, dressed in black. Her face was an unreadable mask and he breathed a sigh of relief that she was still alive. Beside her sat Toshiro, also in black. He was older, maybe thirty, and beside him sat Karin. Both looked stricken, but neither cried a tear.

"Okay, so if they're sitting there," he looked at the spirit, "Then who is in that?"

He pointed to the casket. At that moment the pallbearers lifted it and began to walk from the church. The minister walked behind it and Orihime and Toshiro followed behind him.

He hadn't been inside a church since Gin's funeral, and he tried to think of anyone he knew that this funeral could be for. Yet his mind drew a blank.

"Hey," he looked around as a thought occurred to him, "Where am I? Usually I'm somewhere in the mix."

The spirit remained silent. As he followed alongside Toshiro and Orihime, he could hear soft murmurs coming from the congregation.

_"…never met a more selfish man…"_

_ "…can't take it with you, you know…"_

_ "…I wouldn't doubt he lined the casket with money…"_

_ "…miser…"_

_ "…do you think he left any to his brother?"_

Grimmjow's insides grew cold as a horrible realization struck him. He turned to the spirit and cried out, "It's me isn't it? I'm the one in the casket."

The spirit remained silent, but a portal opened quickly, and just as quickly he was deposited on the cold hard ground at a cemetery. The tombstone in front of the open hole displayed his name along with the dates of his birth and death.

The casket was held above the opening and Orihime and Toshiro were the only ones now left at the gravesite. She stood tall, but Grimmjow could see the tears falling from her eyes.

"I always thought he would come around," Toshiro whispered.

"He had it in him," she replied softly. "There was goodness in his heart, even if he refused to see it."

"And now it's too late," Toshiro stated.

They both stared at the grave, but when Toshiro suggested they leave Orihime shook her head.

"You go on without me," she hugged him tightly.

"Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly.

She smiled encouragingly through her tears and his brother walked over to the car where Karin waited for him.

Once he was gone, and Orihime was alone, she fell to her knees. Sobs tore from her throat as she wailed inconsolably.

"Damn it Grimmjow," she cried, "Why did you have to die? Why couldn't you have lived? And what about that future you promised me?"

She stared at the coffin with unseeing eyes. Tears continued to stream down her face and she gasped for air. Grimmjow wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but he was just as much a specter as the spirit beside him.

"I loved you," she sobbed, now quieter. "I always did. Even when you cast me aside, I couldn't bring myself to hate you." She laughed bitterly. "Of course you did a good enough job of that yourself."

She lowered her head. His limbs were numb. Her words were so honest. He did hate himself, more so since that day when she had left for good. He had pissed away his life and her love, and for what?

"This future," he asked the spirit. "It's not _the_ future; just a possible future. I mean if I were to change. If I opened my heart to love…"

The spirit said nothing. Instead it looked up as another portal opened. Grimmjow looked in horror as chains, impossibly long chains, spewed from the dark abyss. He doubled over in pain as his gut seemed to rip apart. Looking down he pulled open his shirt and was shocked to see a gaping hole in his stomach, much like the one on the spirit's chest. The chains looped through the hole and entwined themselves around his body. A sickening sensation gripped him as the chains began to drag him towards the abyss.

"No," he pleaded with the spirit. "Please, I can change. It doesn't have to be like this."

The spirit lowered his head.

"Oh God no," Grimmjow felt the tears finally fall from his eyes. Overwhelming sorrow pierced his soul and he knew in that moment if he had it all to live over again, he would do it differently.

Heat blasted from the open portal and Grimmjow screamed as he was dragged inside. This was it. His life had been a waste, and now he would pay with his immortal soul.

Crying out he twisted against the hold of the chains. He became frantic in his desire to live. And suddenly the chains slackened, and he fell. His head hit the floor and when he opened his eyes he was shocked to see he was home. His body wrapped tightly in his twisted sheets.

"Oh God," he cried sweet tears of relief, "Oh God."

Working his way from the linens he finally stood, free at last. Outside the sun was just rising in the sky and he wondered how long he had been gone. Quickly he grabbed the remote for the TV and turned on the news."

"…and a Merry Christmas to our viewing audience…"

Christmas? It was only Christmas morning. The spirits that had plagued him had done so in the course of only one night.

He let out a joyful yell as he began to dance around his room.

"I'm alive," he sang. "I'm alive."

He continued to dance merrily, the spirits forgotten, but their lessons still embossed on his brain. Coming to a stop he realized he had a lot of work ahead of him. A lifetime of mistakes needed to be put right, and he knew just where to start. He picked up his phone and dialed. Please be awake he thought as he looked at the clock. It was barely six. Yet she picked up, her voice was annoyed at first, and then shocked silent as he began to reveal his plans for the day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes:** So here it is, the last chapter to this Christmas story, just in time for the big day. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have never had a story come from my mind to print in such speed, and I was glad I could share it with you.

I want to thank all those who took the time to review, and a special thanks to my beta, **lilarin**, who kicked my ass verbally when I grew so discouraged early on by the lack of interest. I am glad I listened to her and persevered. Every review has made me smile!

So before you read I recommend loading Rod Stewart's version of Auld Lang Syne to listen to. It just left me with a smile when I finished this story.

One more thing - I have an epilogue, but am not sure whether to add it. It is pure Grimmhime fluff, yet I am not sure if the story should end here or not. Please let me know if you would be interested and I will try to post it before Christmas.

If not - Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate, and may the next week be filled with joy!

* * *

_A Christmas Carol_ by Charles Dickens

_Bleach_ by Tite Kubo

* * *

**Chapter Six:**

I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach!" ― Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

* * *

"Merry Christmas!" he blurted as she picked up the phone.

"Mr. Jaegerjaquez?" Nanao's puzzled voice spoke groggily.

"You got it," he said with enthusiasm.

"Mr. Jaegerjaquez it's," she paused for a moment, "Not even six in the morning."

"I know," he laughed.

"And its Christmas," she grew annoyed.

"I know," he said again.

"And I have off on Christmas."

"Correct again!" he was pacing his room with the phone to his ear. His energy was boundless and he found he couldn't sit still.

"So then," she let out a loud sigh, "Is there a reason you're calling?"

"Besides to wish you a Merry Christmas?" he teased.

"Yes sir," she replied now clearly annoyed.

"Well funny you should ask," he said as he stopped to look at his reflection in the mirror. He grinned wide. "I need you to call in some favors for me, and then rustle up some of the people who work the warehouse in the city, a few truck drivers too…"

"Sir may I remind you again that it is Christmas," she interrupted.

"I know," he laughed, "I already wished you a merry one. So now about those workers…"

"Everyone has the day off, including me," she said slowly.

"I'll pay them double," he said.

"What?"

"Yeah, you're right. It is Christmas after all," he paused as he calculated the numbers in his head, "Make it ten times salary!"

"Are you drunk?" she asked.

"Just high on life," he grinned.

"You do realize we are talking between one to two hundred dollars an hour, depending on who I find."

"I trust you Nanao," he said, encouraged that she had made the concession as to who she could get. It meant her mind was already working.

"And I do not come that cheap either."

"No you don't," he shot back, "But you are well worth the money Miss Ise."

She grew silent and he knew if he could see her face she would be blushing.

"You _are_ drunk," she recovered.

He laughed loudly.

"Okay Miss Ise, listen carefully," he continued on, "Got a pen and paper."

"Mr. Jaegerjaquez I did not agree to this."

He ignored her.

"First we need to fill about…I would say two big trucks should do it. Balls, bats, bikes," he paused. "Little kid crap, you know."

"No I don't know," she refused to be swayed.

"Stuff that kids can use…I mean you were a kid once, weren't you?"

"I did not play frivolous games…"

"And yet you work for a recreational equipment company."

"I am versatile," she remarked, but he heard the distinct clicking of a pen.

"So as I was saying," he barreled on, "Two trucks full of stuff for kids. And then I want you to call Kirio Hikifune and have her clear out her store of every last confection."

"Sir," she asked, "What exactly is going on?"

"A Christmas party of course."

"But you hate Christmas."

"That's the old me," he said as he searched his closet for the right clothes. "The new me loves Christmas. Anyways this is for a bunch of kids."

"Does this have anything to do with Orihime Inoue?"

He grinned painfully wide, "It has everything to do with her. But then again," he hesitated, "This is my old neighborhood. It's time to pay it forward, if you know what I mean."

She grew silent and he wondered if she was smiling too.

"Okay," he said as he pulled out some black jeans and a dark red shirt, "Meet me the warehouse, and wear something elfie."

"Elfie?" she asked.

"Yeah like green or red - Christmas colors."

"I never said I was going to accept this job," she reminded him.

"It's for the kids, Miss Ise," he teased again. "Oh and before I forget, when that husband of yours wakes up have him go online and book a vacation to the island paradise of his choosing- on me."

"Excuse me?" she sputtered.

"A vacation Miss Ise," he laughed, "Starting tomorrow."

"But the twenty-sixth is hell at work," she protested.

"Yeah, forgot about that. Scratch that idea. Tell him I'll give you two weeks if he lets me have you this week instead."

"Maybe I should send a medic," she replied. "Are you sure you are well."

"Never been better," he grabbed some socks and shoes and headed back to his room. "You've got my credit card information. Just leave it with him when you leave for the party - unless he wants to come too."

"Oh," she sounded surprised. "I don't know. I like to keep my personal life and work life separate."

"It's Christmas Nanao. Fuck that shit!"

This time he distinctly heard her laugh.

"Alright then," he prepared to take a shower. "I'll meet you down at the warehouse in an hour."

* * *

Grimmjow had showered, dressed, and was about to head to the elevator when he remembered one task still left undone on this glorious morning. As the doors opened and he stepped inside, he pulled out his phone and sent a text. The message was simple: _What time is dinner?_

It wasn't until he pulled up in front of the warehouse and got out of his car that the phone rang. He stood beside the vehicle in the cold morning air and stared at the number. For a second he was overwhelmed by anxiety, but pushing it aside he took the call.

"Merry Christmas, Toshiro," he said with genuine pleasure.

"Is everything okay Grimmjow?" his brother's voice was concerned.

"I've never felt better," he replied honestly. "In fact I plan to work up quite an appetite today, so I hope there will be plenty of good food at this dinner."

"You are serious," Toshiro spoke low. "You are honestly accepting my invitation?"

"Why," he teased, "Have you suddenly decided to rescind the offer?"

"No," Toshiro was quick to reply, "Not at all. I just…you were very adamant yesterday."

"And today I am very adamant about coming," he said. But then his nerves got the best of him and he began to doubt himself. "That is if you still want me to come."

"Of course I do," his brother replied. "It is what I have wanted for a long time; to spend Christmas with you."

He felt like a complete shit. The poor kid had no family other than him, and he had tried so hard to push Toshiro away for most of his life. Yet today was a new day. No regrets. He had promised himself that. If he allowed regrets to enter his heart, he would stumble and fall again. No he was hell-bent to start anew.

"Toshiro," he spoke low as he stared at the warehouse. Nanao had pulled up and she and her husband got out of her car. Around him other workers had begun to arrive, and he felt his confidence rise. "I have not been the best of brothers..."

"You have always provided for me," the kid interrupted, but he refused to be deterred from what needed to be said.

"I have not been the best of brothers in the ways that truly matter," he pushed ahead. "Somewhere along the line I lost my heart. I let this world weigh me down, and I lumped you together with all the other people who only cared about me for the profit I could bring them. It was wrong, and I apologize."

The line grew silent. He waited for a moment before saying, "Toshiro?"

The voice that answered was coarse, and he knew his brother well enough to know that the kid was fighting tears. And as much as Grimmjow hated to show weakness, he knew Toshiro hated it even more.

"I forgive you," was his brother's simple reply.

Grimmjow exhaled loudly.

"Good, now that that sentimental shit is out of the way, we can do this whole family thing over again. And this time I plan to get it right."

Toshiro laughed softly, his relief evident. "You ever consider going into the greeting card industry instead?"

Grimmjow laughed so hard that the workers that had gathered looked up and stared at him. He waved at them and then said, "Toshiro, I have to go. I have this big shindig to attend in the old neighborhood. I'll call you if I run behind."

"I understand," his brother replied.

"And Toshiro," he said before he hung up, "Is it okay if I bring a guest…well if she accepts that is…"

* * *

Grimmjow stood just outside the doors to the building where Orihime held the gift giveaway. It had taken a few hours, but Nanao had managed to gather enough workers, and they had cleared the shelves at the warehouse of all things children related that they could find.

Kirio Hikifune had taken a little more convincing. The woman was not a fan of his. He supposed it was the comment he had made about her recent weight gain last year that had left him on the top of her most hated list, but Nanao had persuaded the woman to go in and clear her shop of the last of her Christmas candies and confections. Of course she had to offer the woman double what the already pricey items were worth, but it would be worth it when those kids got to taste sweets that only the richest and influential people could afford.

Now they stood at the recreation center, his employees, Kirio and a few of her employees (whose salaries he was also paying), and Nanao's husband. The man was more than curious to see what exactly this was all about, and after the initial anger that Grimmjow was taking his wife away at Christmas; he became one of the most eager of the lot to help.

Gently he opened the doors as to not alert the occupants of his arrival. He tiptoed to the double doors that led into the main gymnasium, Nanao, her husband, and Kirio behind him. When he pushed the gymnasium doors open just enough to see what was going on he could see Orihime standing on a small platform in front of the rather large crowd of children. A huge chair was decorated for Santa to sit upon, and behind her stood the man in red himself. She held a microphone to her lips and spoke softly, and Grimmjow was saddened to hear the exhaustion in her tone.

"Santa and I would like to welcome you all to our party," she smiled wearily. The kids though, oblivious to the events that had transpired the previous day, cheered loudly. She smiled weakly and hesitated. Looking back at Santa, who nodded for her to continue, she said, "This year…" she paused and when she spoke again her voice cracked slightly. "This year things are…well there was a problem…and we have been working hard to fix it…"

She became silent and anxious murmurs could be heard from the kids and the parents gathered. Orihime looked up and smiled as she gathered her courage.

"Christmas," she began again, "Is not just one day where we give to others and then go back to our lives forgetting the joy it brought us. We should keep the Christmas Spirit all year." She squared her shoulders and plowed ahead. "You are the most wonderful bunch of kids I know, and Santa tells me you have been exceptionally good this year…but…well…"

He couldn't take it anymore. She was trying so hard to please the kids, and her courage in the face of all that had happened was awe inspiring. Wanting to rescue her from delivering her fateful message, he burst loudly through the double doors. The room grew silent and all eyes turned his way. He smiled his usual cocky grin and made for the makeshift stage. Orihime's eyes grew wide as he took the microphone from her and winked.

"I'll take over from here," he smiled wider. He turned to the kids and said, "Isn't she the sweetest woman you ever met?"

The kids all began to cheer and Orihime blushed furiously.

"She's Santa's most ardent supporter," he continued, "Isn't that true Santa?" He looked to the man in costume and the old guy gave him the thumbs up. Grimmjow turned back to the kids. "Usually Miss Inoue has every little duck in a row for this event, but this year," he paused, "This year something happened."

The room grew silent again and he looked around to each anxious face. In those worried expressions he saw himself as a child. He remembered how hard it was to believe in Santa and the Spirit of Christmas when he awoke year after year to find nothing under the tree. He also remembered wondering what wrongs he had done to earn the jolly fat man's disdain. He had hated that feeling, and consequently hated Christmas as a result. Now though he had a chance to change that. These kids shouldn't have to feel those feelings he had as a child.

He smiled wider. "You see Santa is a busy man. Flying around the world in one night, and dropping off gifts for all the good boys and girls can be a logistical nightmare." The kids stared silently. "This year his most important bag, the one that contained the presents for all of you, fell off his sleigh and got lost."

Now the anxiety grew into whispers and the kids faces fell. He quickly held up his hand to silence them and said, "So Miss Inoue called me, and I put the best woman I know," he turned to where Nanao waited by the door. She stood straighter and behind her Shunsui smiled proudly. "Miss Ise, my secretary," he leaned forward and placed his hand by his mouth. Whispering loudly as if sharing secret he continued, "She's part blood hound you know," this earned him a rather loud snort form his secretary and a few hesitant giggles from the kids. He straightened and kept going, "Anyways, she managed to track down that lost bag…"

The kids began to applaud enthusiastically. Beside him he heard Orihime gasp and when he glanced her way he saw the tears glistening on her lashes. He smiled at her and then turned back to the crowd.

"Turns out the bag had fallen just a few miles from where we are now. So Miss Ise called some of our workers and they got a few trucks and gathered up the stuff," he began to laugh, "Cos you know Santa's bag is magical, and the darn thing ripped during its fall from his sleigh, it took two huge trucks to carry all the gifts that were inside that thing."

The kids' eyes grew wide and he felt higher than he had after waking from the nightmare he had lived the night before. This was fucking incredible, this feeling their belief brought to his heart. He lifted a finger to wipe the moisture that had collected in the corners of his own eyes and continued.

"So," he pointed to the double doors, "Just outside those doors are the trucks full of the presents. But it's gonna take a bit of time to unload all that sh…" he caught himself and shook his head, "stuff. We'll need about an hour to get this done properly. So while you are waiting I had Miss Hikifune, who makes the best candy and treats in the city, bring you guys some good eats to hold you over. And," he nodded to a young man who had been busy setting up equipment during Grimmjow's little speech, "My friend Shuhei and his band are gonna rock the place with Christmas songs."

The kids all clapped. Some were jumping up and down, while others began to dance to the music that was already blasting through the room. Grimmjow grinned and turned to Orihime. Handing her back the microphone he winked.

"Hope I wasn't too dramatic." She took the microphone, but her mouth hung open. "Yeah," he scratched his head as he felt his face heat up, "I guess I overdid it."

She shook her head and smiled. "You were perfect."

"You think so?" he grinned earnestly.

She nodded her head and the tears that had been threatening since he arrived, fell from her eyes. He stepped closer and lifted a finger to catch the drops and wipe them away.

"Orihime," he said before she could push him away, "I was a complete and utter shit yesterday." She nodded silently and he sighed. "I shouldn't have said any of those things to you. I know that if anyone enjoys the charity work she does, it's you." He gazed into her eyes, "All my life you have been the one unchanging beacon of hope in a sea of self doubt and pain."

She let out a gasp. The tears only fell harder, but she smiled. Happy tears – that was good, he thought. Encouraged he went on, "Your spirit embodies that of Christmas, the whole year through. And I think at some point I resented that spirit. I resented that you could take all the shit life threw at you and remain as trusting and as open as the day you were born."

She laughed nervously; his words obviously embarrassing her. Yet he was not about to stop. He had almost lost this woman. Hell he had almost lost his soul. Now that he had a second chance he was never going to hold back the truth again.

"Can you forgive me?" he asked with sincerity, "And not just for yesterday, but for all of it. Every last stinking shitty thing I have ever done to you."

Her eyes held his but she remained silent.

"I know it's a lot to ask," he lowered his hand and then his head in shame.

Yet she reached for his chin and lifted his face so that he could look at her again.

"What happened to you Grimmjow?" she peered deeply into his eyes. "Yesterday…that man…he was not the man I knew…he was scary…"

"I wish I could take it back," he whispered.

She shook her head. "Today you are the boy I remember," She smiled, "But I don't understand."

He held her gaze and said in all seriousness, "I was visited by three spirits last night."

She narrowed her eyes and teased, "Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, and…?"

He threw back his head and laughed loudly.

"They were my companions early on," he then sobered, but his smile remained, "But before the night was over I was reminded of the true meaning of Christmas, and all the people who were important to me. Orihime," he reached for her hands and held them in his own, "I had so much to be grateful for, but I never could see that. I believed that inherently I must be bad…it was the only reason I had for why I was seemingly forgotten at Christmas. Yet I always had love and affection. All I had to do was open my eyes to see it."

She began to cry again, but her smile was warm.

"All these years," she whispered, "Ever since that Christmas where I found you…" she shook her head to dispel the unpleasant memory. "Well since that day I have had but one wish each year."

Now her tears left her so choked up she had to stop. He waited patiently for her to regain her composure.

"My wish never changed. And every year," she held his gaze firmly in her own, "I was disappointed. Yet the next Christmas my wish was the same. And each Christmas I held out hope that this would be the year."

He felt his stomach knot painfully with anticipation. "Orihime what was your wish?"

She smiled and said, "I need you to say something for me."

He now narrowed his eyes, "I don't understand."

"Tell me, Merry Christmas," her eyes changed and he sensed her mounting anxiety.

He wanted to take that anxiety away. He wanted her to never worry again. If he could he would see that she never shed another tear because of something he had done to hurt her. If it took him the rest of his life he wanted to make her happy.

He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them tenderly. From deep in his heart, and with every honest emotion he felt he whispered, "Merry Christmas, Orihime."

She let out a strangled gasp and he was surprised to find that she was not the only one crying anymore. His own vision blurred and he grabbed her tightly against him. Burying his face in her hair he declared, "I am so sorry, Orihime. For twelve years I wasted my life and buried my heart. Twelve wasted Christmases without you. But now," he pulled back and smiled at her, "Now I want nothing more than to make it up to you, if you'll let me."

She stared into his eyes and then her smile grew wider than his. She nodded enthusiastically and he let out a holler of sheer joy. Grabbing her again he lifted her and spun about, not caring who saw them. When he stopped, and her feet were once again on the ground he leaned in and kissed her with all the love he felt in his heart. Her hands found their way to his hair and she sighed into his mouth.

He loved her more than his own life. He pulled back, his lips mere centimeters from her own, "Merry Christmas, Orihime."

She smiled back, "Merry Christmas, Grimmjow."


End file.
